{792 

IF  7  7 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


EDWIN  B.  FROST 


FRANCESCA  OF  RIMINI, 


A     POEM. 


BY  A.  S.  H. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.    B.    L1PPINCOTT   &   CO. 

1878. 


Copyright,  1878,  by  J.  B.  LllTlNCOTT  &  Co. 


FRANCESCA   OF   RIMINI. 


I, 

A     WESTERN  shore  and  marshy  plain  between, 

Girt  by  a  crumbling  wall,  a  city  stands 
Alone.     Men  say  there  was  none  other  seen 
So  joyous  or  so  fair,  in  all  those  lands, 
When  decked  as  for  a  bride  by  royal  hands, 
Her  excellence  was  as  some  jewel  rare, 
That  many  crowns  had  coveted  to  wear. 


4  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Like  to  a  brilliant  bound  about  her  brow, 
Upon  the  darkening  waters  blazed  her  light, 

For  those  who  watched  about  the  spray- wet  brow, 
To  catch  its  distant  flashings  through  the  night ; 
Or  safe  within  her  circling  arms,  the  white 

Ships  slept  with  folded  wings,  a  happy  hour 

At  rest  from  baffling  winds  and  Thetis'  power. 

But  drifting  sands  have  shut  her  from  the  sea, 

Whose  murmuring  waters  washed   erstwhile  her 
feet, 

And  cool  dim  woods  are  stirred  with  melody 
Of  birds,  that  flit  and  call,  and  answer  sweet 
From  moss-hid  nests,  where  wrathful  surges  beat 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  c 

Before,  and  sea-birds,  circling  slantingwise, 
Dipped  down  the  yellow  surf  with  shrilly  cries. 

Forgotten  now  of  emperor  and  king, — 
Yet  as  the  incense  o'er  the  altar  waits, 

Though  long  ago  the  censer  ceased  to  swing, — 
A  legendary  light  illuminates 
Her  silent  palaces,  whose  empty  gates, 

Forsaken  of  their  guests,  no  hand  again 

Shall  ever  ope  to  sun  or  bar  to  rain. 

And  save  that  shrine  of  him,  the  bard  divine, 
No  good  thing  tempts  the  pilgrim's  wandering 
way 


FRANCESCA    OP  RIMINI. 

Within  her  narrow  streets  ;  no  longer  shine 
The  lights  of  midnight  revel, — all  the  gay 
And  happy  songs  are  dead  upon  her  gray 
Still  lips,  that  fortune,  fickle  lover,  oft 
In  other  days  had  thrilled  with  kisses  soft. 

Nor  aught  is  heard  of  music  in  her  streets, 
Save  here  perchance  a  maiden  singing  o'er 

Her  work :  the  pulse  of  life  responsive  beats 
No  more  to  stirring  sounds  of  peace  or  war, 
For   this    the   peace    that    dwells    within    her 
door 

Is  that  which  hovers  o'er  the  chilling  clay 

Ere  yet  the  spirit  passeth  quite  away. 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  7 

II. 

Now  in  that  long  gone  time  of  which  men  tell, 
Within  a  smiling  chamber,  where  the  rays 

Of  loving  suns  last  lingered  and  first  fell, 

A  maiden  stands,  and  looks  with  dreamy  gaze 
Across  the  sunclad  sea,  and  level  lays, 

That  stretch  beneath  the  lattice  window  wide, 

In  the  still  sleep  of  summer  eventide. 

Nor  sees  the  purple  haze  upon  the  height, 

The  curved-horned  cattle  browsing  on  the  downs, 

The  slim  acacia-hedges,  flowering  white 

In  slender  lines  between  the  gray-walled  towns, 
The  grain-fields  gilding  their  tiara  crowns 


8  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Where  first  the  river,  winding  wearily, 
Tastes  the  salt  kisses  of  the  waiting  sea. 

Her  wide  soft  eyes  looked  out  beyond  the  rim 
Of  hill  and  sea,  as  to  some  far  land  green 

With    spring,   where,   revery   leading,    made    them 

dim 

With  happy  tears  too  shy  to  fall,  or  e'en 
Some  wondrous  note  of  sweetness  unforeseen 

Had  wakened  in  the  heart  that,  half  afraid, 

Enraptured  heard  the  song  itself  had  made. 

And  dreaming  still,  till  all  the  mellow  flood 
Of  color  touched  and  vanished  as  a  cry 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  g 

Beyond  the  vineyard-terraced  hills,  she  stood 
As  in  a  vision ;  and  across  the  sky 
The  white  moon,  stately  as  a  princess,  high 
Amid  a  thousand  stars,  moved  silently, 
Her  silver  trailing  dress  upon  the  sea  : 

Then  folded  up  her  dream  in  her  deep  heart, 
And  waking,  blushed  to  know  it  hidden  there. 

For  Guido,  Lord  of  Cervia,  apart, 

In  suddenwise,  within  his  daughter's  hair 
Had  set  a  blossom  only  one  may  wear : 

And  all  the  day  as  one  who  slept  and  dreamed, 

And    waked    to    dream    her   dream    again,    she 
seemed. 


10  FRANC ESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

And  all  the  day  a  wistful  yearning,  sweet 
And  pitiful,  alas !  and  sharp  surprise, 

And  timid  dread  of  that  she  would  not  meet 
Yet  would  not  lose,  was  mingled  in  her  eyes, 
Hope  answering  to  fear  in  soft  replies. 

O  little  Heart !  that  throbs  and  beats,  who  may 

Translate  thy  music  or  thy  tumult  weigh  ! 

Within  the  sunny  garden  of  her  life, 

Where  only  murmuringwise  upon  her  ears 

Fell  undiscerned  the  turmoil  of  men's  strife, 
What   should    she   know  of  all    the   sin   and 

tears 
That  stain  the  purple  raiment  of  the  years ; 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Of  love  made  loathing,  and  of  mocked  desire, 
Of  mould  within  the  seed,  that  wastes  as  fire 

Erewhile  it  blooms,  of  all  the  ills  that  blight 
Ere  foolish  hope  be  wholly  turned  to  scorn, 

The  little  space  and  span  of  man's  delight. 
For  in  her  heart  each  image  fair  was  born, 
As  flowers,  standing  in  the  doors  of  morn, 

Ere  yet  the  lurking  shadows,  one  by  one, 

Gather  and  deepen  in  the  noontide  sun. 

So  must  it  be, — for  if  to  him  who  first 

The  toilsome  way  begun,  were  told  the  sin, 
The  pain,  the  shame,  the  hunger  and  the  thirst, 


12  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

How  should  he  dare  the  journey  to  begin! 

How  would  he  rather  choose  again  to  win 
That  rest  serene,  whence  coming,  man  but  may 
Return,  nor  break  its  slumber  by  a  day  ! 


I  I  I. 

Divided  then  was  all  that  land.     Within 
Her  door  the  good  wife  trembling  saw  afar 

The  flash  of  shields.     A  little  gold  to  win 

The  sword  was  drawn,  nor  loth  were  hands  to  mar 
What  lips  had  sworn.     And  Guido,  long  at  war, 

And  fearing  oaths  but  lightly  pledged,  would  fain 

With  holier  vows  the  new-made  truce  maintain. 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  j^ 

But  one  whose  crafty  counsel  in  the  things 

Of  state  he  sought,  made  answer  thus  :  "  Beware, 

O  ftiend,  of  this  that  thou  wilt  do.     The  wings 
Of  love  are  strong  and  free,  and  were  he  heir, 
This  Malatesta  lord,  to  virtues  rare 

As  brilliants  chosen  for  a  royal  crown, 

Well  at  their  setting  might  a  maiden  frown. 

"Now  if  this  man  she  see,  nor  I,  nor  thou, 

Shall    move    her    mind    to   wed   with    him.      But 
let 

His  brother  Paulo  come  to  take  the  vow, 
That  thus  a  maiden's  fancies  may  not  set 
At  naught  thy  pleasure,  and  new  perils  yet 

2 


4  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

The  state  assail."     And  thus  unwittingly 
Came  Paulo,  with  a  goodly  company, 

And  gifts,  the  lily  of  the  land  to  wed. 

And  so  it  happened  that  as  down  the  street 

That  'neath  the  palace  windows  wiifding  led, 
With  tumult  of  men's  voices  and  the  feet 
Of  horses,  passed  the  train,  in  shy  retreat, 

Francesca,  with  her  maids,  behind  the  half 

Closed    lattice    stood.      To    whom    with    merry 
laugh 

One  said :  "  Lo,  lady,  this  is  he,  thy  lord." 
Who,  when  with  timid  wondering  to  prove 


fRANCESCA    OF  RIM  INT.  !$ 

Her  dreams,  she  saw  him  thus  in  such  accord 

Therewith,  straightway  from  that  time  forth  her 

love 

In  him  she  placed,  nor  knew  what  snare  was  wove 
About  her  way,  nor  dreamed  that  love  made  sin 
Should  all  the  song  make  mute  her  heart  within. 

Full  oft  the  perfect  gift  of  happy  days, 

That  dazzling  pass  as  stars  across  our  sky, 

Is  the  sweet  after- thought,  that  still  delays 
When  low  the  stars  'neath  the  horizon  lie, 
And  all  the  tumult  of  oar  joy  's  gone  by. 

Below  the  world's  far  edge  dips  from  our  view 

The  sun,  but  leaves  behind  his  softest  hue. 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

So  in  some  twilight  chamber  of  our  lives, 
Oft  watch  we  peaceful  with  a  memory 

Sweet  as  the  long  passed  rapture  it  survives. 
And  oft  Francesca  in  the  days  to  be, 
Should  clothe  herself  again  in  fantasy, 

With  robes  of  white  and  pearls,  ort  hear  again 

The  dim  vaults  echo  back  the  deep  refrain 

Of  chanting  choir,  should  feel  anew  the  faint 
Breath  of  the  censer  steal,  a  holy  spell, 

About  her  soul,  and  feign  the  sweet  constraint 
That    mingled   with    the    joy   she    could    not 

tell 
The  rapture  of  a  kiss  might  but  dispel. 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  r 

Beneath  the  gate's  wide  span,  where  overhead, 
Half  white  on  field  of  azure,  and  half  red 

On  field  of  gold,  the  eagle  shone,  oft  should 
She  pass,  and  with  her  lover  seek  anew 

The  selfsame  fields  and  summer-scented  wood 
That  once  before,  with  merry  retinue 
Of   laughter   and   of    song,    they    journeyed 
through, 

Till,  counting  thus  of  bliss  her  little  store, 

She  comes,  as  on  that  festal  night,  once  more 

The  wonder  of  all  eyes,  girt  round  with  praise. 

The  circling  sheen  of  pearls  upon  her  bare 

2* 


1 8  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

White  throat,  as  'twere  not  tinted  by  the  rays 
Of  southern  suns,  and  yellower  her  hair 
Than  was  the  golden  fillet  twining  there ; 
And  in  her  face  a  light  divine,  as  one 
Who  called  of  Heaven  knows  her  refuge  won. 

And   long   they   say  throughout    that    land   was 

told 
How  unto  men  she  came,  a  breath  of  some 

Forgotten  sweetness  lost  to  life  grown  old  ; 
A  glimmer  of  the  dawn  and  fields  abloom, 
To  light  within  the  heart's  long  darkened  room 

The  faces  of  the  dead,  that  moulder  not 

As  things  of  earth,  but  slumbering,  forgot 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  jo 

Of  men,  wait  for  the  issue  of  the  night. 
O  life  !  that  hath  for  love  so  little  ruth  ; — 

For  love  is  more  than  life,  though  life  should  blight 
All  sweet  false  dreaming  with  its  bitter  truth, 
And  all  that  makes  the  paradise  of  youth, 

Dissolve  as  clouds,  that  gild  the  morning's  train 

With  golden  fleece,  to  melt  at  night  in  rain. 

And   all   that   night,  though    love  were   slain,   the 

sea 
Played  with  the  shadows  of  the  stars,  heedless 

The  nightingale  his  midnight  melody 

Outpoured,  and  through  the  summer  quietness, 
Unbroken,  save  where  in  the  bay's  recess, 


20  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Secure  at  last,  the  weary  boatmen  furled 

With  song  their  glistening  sails,  slept  on  the  world. 

High  up  the  mountain  slope, 
The  frailest  blossoms  ope 
To  morning  dew,  and  hide  in  rest 
At  night  upon  the  crater's  breast. 

Close  in  the  narrow  path, 

That  no  side  turning  hath, 

A  shining  angel  waits,  nor  saith 

To  him  who  comes,  My  kiss  is  death  / 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  21 

IV. 

Though  in  its  circuit  summer  wind  should  see 
The  death  of  summer  flowers,  it  would  not  stay; 

Beneath  the  winter  snow,  as  joyously 
The  river  runs  as  when,  in  time  of  May, 
The  grasses  stooped  to  hear  what  it  should  say. 

In  bright  dim  gates  of  birth  alone  a  cry 

Is  born,  and  in  the  gates  of  death  a  sigh, 

That  with  the  voice  of  Nature  has  no  kin ; 

There  is  no  place  in  all  her  wide  domain 
For  one  regretful  tear  ;  only  within 

The  spirit  infinite  is  room  for  pain. 

So  stir  of  life  no  heaviness  can  chain, 


22  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

And  softly  coming  dawn  returned,  and  dumb 
Night,  waking,  broke  anew  in  song.     So  come 

The  days  as  women  beautiful  in  dreams  : 

Each  with  her  handmaids  two, — sweet  Joy,  whose 
smile, 

Bespeaking  unto  men  heaven's  pity,  seems 
To  wrap  the  world  in  peace,  as  seas  the  isle  : 
But  in  her  shadow,  as  a  veil  the  while, 

Walks  Sorrow,  silent  and  unseen  of  all, 

Save  those  on  whom  perchance  her  sad  eyes  fall. 

Day  follows  hard  the  night.     The  rocks  make  haste 
To  clothe  a  little  while  their  barren  breasts ; 


FRANC  ESC  A    OF  RIMINI.  23 

The  buds  swell  swiftly,  for  the  winds  that  waste 
Are  stirring  in  the  north.     A  thousand  nests 
Are  building  fast,  wherein  a  new  world  rests 
But  so  to  gain  a  little  strength  of  wing, 
To  follow  on  the  footsteps  of  the  spring. 

So  swift  the  whirling  wheel  it  seems  to  stand  : 
Each    broken    life,  as   dreams   that   caught    in 
sleep 

Still  go  before,  weaves  on  the  endless  strand. 
Men  listen  for  the  voice  of  them  that  weep, 
But  still  and  smooth  as  waters  where  they  leap 

The  gulf,  the  flowing  sea  gives  back  no  sound ; — 

Not  yet  the  secret  told,  the  answer  found. 


24  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

For  this  the  gods  are  kind,  that  men  may  see 
Some  footprints  on  the  sliding  sands  of  space, 

But  not  the  wondrous  feet : — some  shadows  flee 
As  clouds  that  pass  above  and  leave  no  trace, 
Some  far-off  light,  but  not  the  hidden  face : 

May  catch  some  dim  strange  strain  no  waiting  ear 

May  understand,  for  this  the  gods  are  dear-. 

V. 

Rich  food  for  many  tongues  that  bridal  proved, 
For  straightway  knew  all  men  how  she  was  wed 

To  Guianciotto,  and  not  him  she  loved. 
And  if  some  hearts  awhile  sweet  pity  led, 
As  little  waves,  stirred  in  their  shallow  bed 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  2$ 

Alike  by  breeze  and  tempest,  soon  are  still, 
So  scarce  a  day  such  things  their  hearts  did  fill. 

For  cruel  waking  on  that  morn  she  had, 

When  first  her  husband's  face  with  shrinking  eyes 

She  knew,  and  'gan  within  her  heart  once  glad 
With  all  the  merry  world  might  bring;  to  rise 
A  loathing  fear  of  that  she  fain  would  prize, 

And  from  the  fields  above,  the  waters  all 

So  sweet  unto  her  lips,  seemed  touched  with  gall. 

"  Ah  me  !"  she  cried,  "  that  I  may  finish  fast 

The    bitter    draught    life's    narrowing    rim    clasps 
round, 

3 


26  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

And  so  that  pearl  of  peace  I  gain  at  last, 
That  not  in  all  the  flowers  its  margin  bound, 
But  only  in  its  dark  drained  depth  is  found." 

Strange  !  how  each  one  some  time  upon  life's  way, 

How  fair  soever  then  it  be,  how  gray 

Soe'er  it  stretches  to  the  mist-hung  west, 

Knows  well  that  there  within  the  dusk,  not  here, 

Though  fair  sky  stoop  to  fairer  fields,  is  rest. 
Intent  on  matters  to  his  heart  more  dear 
Than  woman's  love,  her  lord,  they  say  who  near 

These    twain    were,    might    not    know   a   woman's 
need; 

He  saw  her  face,  yet  seeing  might  not  read, 


FRANC ESCA    OF  RIMINI.  2? 

Her  scorn,  but  not  her  tears.     "  Forsooth,  she  hath 
Been  overreached,"  he  said,  "  the  jewelled  store 

Of  Malatesta's  bride  will  stay  the  wrath 

Of  her  soft  eyes."     And  jesting  lightly  o'er 
A  maiden's  fancies,  soon  the  brief  days  wore 

That  he  should  tarry  with  her,  and  anon 

To  a  far  land  he  governed  he  was  gone. 

So   seemed   the    worst   thing   done ;    and    summer 

wrought 
From  hill  to  belt  of  sea  its  dress  of  green, 

And  to  that  land  glad  gifts  the  autumn  brought. 
Yet  had  the  lapse  of  hours  no  spell  to  wean 
Her  sad,  enduring  thought  from  what  had  been. 


28  FRANC  ESC  A    OF  RIMINI. 

Above  her  golden  cushion  still  she  hears 
The  pulse  of  love,  and  broiders  only  tears. 

No  idle  talk  of  maids  might  mar  for  her 

The  dream  that  in  her  lute's  low  music  fled, 

Of  what  should  be,  when  from  the  sepulchre 

The  stone  were  rolled,  and  Love  were  in  Fate's 

stead. 
Haply  within  the  awful  hush  of  dead 

Desires,  when  men  no  longer  fain  would  know 

Whither  at  night  the  red  suns  silent  go, 

Some  peace,  a  peace  of  vanished  hopes,  may  hide. 
But  solitude  for  her  was  as  the  breath 


FRANCE SC A    OF  RIMINI.  2g 

Of  spring  to  quicken  what  perchance  had  died. — 
A  tomb  wherein  as  one  none  comforteth, 
She    entered    with   the   dead   and    watched    with 

death, 

And  set  against  her  woe  the  joy  she  might 
Not  leave,  a  thing  forgotten  in  the  night. 

For  though  an  angel,  pleading,  to  her  lips 
Had  borne  a  draught  so  peaceful  and  so  deep 

That  all  her  pain  had  found  therein  eclipse, 

Yet  had  she  deemed  it  still  more  sweet  to  keep 
The  memories  that  stirred  her  troubled  sleep 

As  with  the  tremor  of  a  kiss,  whose  thrill 

She  had  not  known  till  lips  and  heart  were  still. 


30  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

For  so,  scarce  conscious  of  our  joy,  we  wait 
Expectant,  looking  for  some  better  guest, 

As  he  who  sees  the  moving  clouds  too  late, 
Alas  !  too  late,  turn  golden  in  the  west ; 
Or  sudden  feels  the  odorous  breath,  when  pressed 

Beneath  his  feet,  the  flower  yields  at  last 

The  fragrance  round  his  life  it  fain  had  cast. 

No  more  the  palace  seemed  a  bridal-place ; 
Masking  nor  feast  Francesca's  presence  knew  ; 

And  if  some  time  perchance  men  saw  her  face 
When  to  the  garden  close  she  slowly  drew, 
Where    dark    upon    the    brown    moss    thickest 
grew 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  -y} 

\J 

The  shade,  such  trouble  seemed  thereon  to  bide, 
As  only  death  within  its  peace  may  hide. 

Goodly  that  pleasance  was ;  its  border  fringed 
With  yellow  grass  the  sea  that  ofttimes  flung 

Therein  the  flakes  of  salt  froth,  amber  tinged, 
And  on  the  sloping  reach  of  pebbles  sung 
The  selfsame  yearning  song,  as  first  among 

The  sleeping  hills  and  shallow  shining  bars, 

Unheard,  it  whispered  to  the  new-lit  stars. 

Beyond  were  shadowed  spaces  of  a  wood, 

Low   boughed,   where    on    the    river's   edge   of 
sand, 


I  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Waist-deep  and  scarcely  stirred,  the  sedges  stood, — 
And  blossoms,  strewn  as  by  a  sower's  hand, 
Sailed  out  into  the  open  pasture-land, 
Where  like  a  white  arm  wound  about  the  lea, 
The  river  kept  the  meadows  from  the  sea. 

There   might    she   hear,  among    the  wind-blown 

boughs, 
Such    sounds   as   fain   would    set    her   feet   in 

some 

New  place,  beyond  the  far  hills'  lifted  brows, — 
Whereto  the  limbs  above,  with  gesture  dumb, 
Swayed  beckoning,  and  the  swift  stream  cried, 
Come ! 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 


33 


And  on  its  bosom  floating  to  the  sea 

The  blossoms  answered,  Follow,  follow  me. 

O  Nature  !    Sweet  to  every  stricken  one, 

Thy  voices,  infinite  in  harmony, 
Chant  secret  things  of  peace.     And  thou  alone 

Shalt  lull  to  slumber,  motherwise,  all  cry 

Of  pain,  e'en  as  at  last  so  tenderly 
Thou  gatherest  our  honor  or  our  shame 
Unto  thy  silent  bosom  whence  we  came. 

For    though    the    moaning    sea    moan    not    its 

dead, 
And  all  the  glistening  tears  about  the  mound 


34 


FRANCE  SLA    OF  RIMINL 


Of  blessed  dust  are  but  the  cold  dew  shed 
From  out  a  colder  sky,  yet  have  men  found 
No  waywise  voice  like  to  that  solemn  sound 
Of  waves,  than  the  sweet  earth  no  breast 
So  soft,  whereon  to  lay  their  lips  at  rest. 

VI. 

And  thus  it  fell  that  Paulo  from  the  chase 

Passed  in  the  gloaming  of  the  wood,  till  through 

The  flowering  thorn  he  brake  unto  a  space 

That  scarce  all  day  the  summer  sunshine  knew, — 
And  sudden  as  within  the  place  he  drew, 

Beheld  her  first  since  on  that  night  of  shame, 

Girt  round  with  wonder  and  with  praise  she  came. 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  35 

Face  unto  face  awhile  in  the  dim  wood, 

So  near  that  he  might  see  the  white  pearls  rise 

And  tremble  in  her  loosened  gown,  they  stood, — 
Such  sudden  light  within  her  yearning  eyes, 
As  made  those  joyless  days  in  some  sweet  wise 

As  dreams,  of  a  long-ending  night  and  drear, 

That  sudden  fails  from  dusk  to  dawn,  appear. 

Nay !  was  it  strange  his  eager  hands  reached  out 
Unto  his  love,  unto  his  sweet,  and  thus 

At  last  the  wasting  pain,  the  fiery  drought, 

Should  cease, — strange  that  her   kind  eyes  mar 
vellous 
Stirred  all  his  heart  with  longing,  tremulous 


36  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

As  fear,  pulsing  as  pain, — that  he  should  buy 
One  little  hour  of  love  with  life  and  die! 

Like  the  fair  blossoming  edge  of  heaven's  shore, 
Only  a  daised  path  between  lay  low ; 

Yet    he    moved    not,   for   e'en   such    fear   passed 

o'er 

Her  troubled  face  as  love  alone  may  know, — 
As  shrinking  back,  yet  with  sad  step  and  slow, 

Pleading  yet  mute,  in  the  dim  shuddering  light 

She  moved,  a  fading  vision,  from  his  sight. 

Long  time  he  stood,  yet  as  one  seeing  naught 
About  him,  or  how  'gan  the  day  among 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 


37 


The  hollows  of  the  hills  to  sleep.     Fulfraught 

With  the  sweet  treasures  of  far  fields,  scarce  hung 
The  bees  above  the  folding  flowers,  scarce  swung 
In  topmost  branches  the  hushed  nests,  and  dim 
Were  grown  the  shadows  on  the  river's  rim. 

But  in  his  ears,  though  lonesome  was  the  place, 

Were  sounds  confused  of  laughter  and  of  mirth, 
And  in  his  eyes  a  well-beloved  face, 

And    in    his    heart,   as    flowers    that    have    their 

birth 

In  waste  forgotten  places  of  the  earth, 
Sweet  flickering  memories;  till  once  again 
He  heard  the  bridal  song,  and  twain  by  twain, 

4 


38  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Fair  hand  in  hand,  the  white-clad  maids,  at  last 
With    lingering  steps   that  scarce    the   measured 
strain 

Might  keep,  from  the  bride-chamber  slowly  passed  ; 
And  with  strange  shame  and  fear,  sweet  unto  pain, 
He  heard  soft  footfalls  of  the  passing  train, 

As  voice  by  voice  the  joyous  song  decreased, 

Until  at  last  footfall  and  singing  ceased, — 

Then  woke,  to  hear  the  unremembering  wind 
Moan  to  the  river  lapping  on  its  shore 

Of  reeds,  and  far  through  gathering  mist  and  blind 
Th'  incoming  sea  send  sullen  answer  o'er 
Its  sands,  and  waking,  knew  that  evermore 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

His  love  the  measure  of  her  woe  should  be, 
The  wound  that  fleeing  still  she  might  not  flee. 

0  Love  !  the  sea  is  deep  whence  thon  wast  born, 
And  in  thine  eyes  betimes  such  sweet  light  hides, 

As  of  dim  depths  where  night  and  noon  are  morn  ; 
Beneath  the  bosom  of  its  fitful  tides 
Men  say  indissoluble  peace  abides, — 

And  yet  so  swift  thy  shifting  lights,  ah  me  ! 

Who  knows,  who  knows,  if  so  or  no  it  be  ? 

0  Love  /  thy  crown  is  laughter,  and  the  foam 

Of  sun-loved  seas  is  round  t/ty  feet.     Thy  breath 
Is  as  the  breath  of  winds  that  have  their  home 


40  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

In  summer  loving  lands,  forgot  of  death, — 
Soft  winds,  that  stir  the  reach  of  purple  heatli 
With  sighing  sounds  of  restfidness  or  zvoe, — 
Ah  me  !  who  knows  if  so  it  be  or  no  ? 

Below  the  glitter  of  thy  sea,  0  Love, 
Men  say  the  dead  innumerable  lie  ; 

And  that  the  red  rose  paler  blooms  above 

The  lonesome  grave,  and  winds  that  wander  by, 
Linger  about  the  home  of  them  that  die : 

But  thou  art  glad,  as  they  who  no  death  know, 

Ah  me  !  who  knows  if  it  be  so  or  no  ? 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  ^ 

VII. 

Within  the  palace  is  a  room  beneath 

Whose  window,  at  its  weary  journey's  end, 
The  quiet  river  sleeps.     Their  sweetest  breath 
The  distant  groves  within  its  lattice  send, — 
Around  its  sunny  oriel  casement  bend 
The  blossoming  vines,  amid  whose  moving  shades 
A  woman  sits,  and  weaves  her  silken  braids 

In  patterns  not  less  delicate  than  they. 

She  does  not  hear  without  the  boatman's  song, 

Nor  yet  the  oar's  soft  plash  and  dripping  play, 
But  oft  the  pauses  of  her  work  among, 
Her  sad  eyes  turn  to  one  who  reads  the  wrong 

4* 


42  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

That   shamed    King  Arthur's    court.     And   as   the 

strain 
Reveals  the  King,  great-hearted,  without  stain, 

She  thinks  of  him,  her  lord, — not  like,  ah !  no, 
Not  like  to  him, — and  that  for  her  had  been 

No  happy  bowers  of  Usk  or  Camelot, 

No  love,  no  faith  as  had  that  faithless  Queen, 
But  only  treachery,  and  hate  between 

A  pity  and  a  scorn.     And  in  that  dumb 

Far  past  she  saw  again  her  lover  come 

With  music  down  the  crowded  streets,  once  more 
She  lived  that  gala  day  of  joy,  and  rode 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI.  43 

Beside  him  through  the  open  city  door, 
As  out  into  a  world  new  made  of  God. 
What  cruel  way  would  not  her  feet,  unshod 
And  bleeding,  press,  if  so  she  might  but  gain 
At  last  from  mist  of  tears  and  fire  of  pain 

But  one  such  day !     The  children,  what  a  voice 
Of  merriment  was  theirs  that  bridal  morn ! 

What  strange  new  life  that  bade  the  world  rejoice  ! 
What  keener  sight,  as  though  Heaven's  veil  were 

torn 
And  a  new  Paradise  for  man  were  born ! 

Almost  she  were  content  that  Queen  to  be, 

If  but  again  such  things  her  eyes  might  see. 


44 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 


The  golden  threads  lay  idle  in  her  hands : — 

Full  breasted  as  a  flood,  whose  glistening  spray 

Leaves  but  the  wreck  within  its  waste  of  sands, 
So  came  these  memories  of  another  day, 
And  passed  the  present  woe  but  to  betray. 

Poor  Heart !  that  hadst  indeed  laid  love  at  rest, 

But  wrought  its  tomb  within  thine  own  warm  breast. 

For  here  it  chanced  he  read  of  the  Queen's  smile 
When  kissed  of  Launcelot,  and  reading,  still 

Was  conscious  of  her  gaze,  and  felt  the  while 
The  subtle  spell  whose  influences  thrill 
From   heart   to   heart   in   cunning  ways  where 
will 


FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 


45 


Is  slave,  and  lifting  from  the  page  apace 
His  eyes,  beheld,  alas  !  her  radiant  face. 

So  moving  down  that  vale,  whose  end  they  knew, 
Of  sweetest   flowers  and   sharpest   thorns,  came 
they 

At  last  thereto  ;  and  waiting  Rumor  through 
The  air  took  wing  upon  her  doleful  way. 
So,  clothed  in  scorn  or  pity,  shall  men  say 

On  thee  the  blight  of  Eden  too  must  cling, 

O  Love  !  thou  Jester,  that  wast  born  a  King  ! 

O  ye  who  leave  the  world  a  stainless  name, 
And  sitting  peaceful  on  the  splendid  heights, 


46  FRANCESCA    OF  RIMINI. 

Behold  it  shine  amid  the  years,  a  flame 
As  of  the  stars,  whose  everlasting  lights 
Burn  unexhausted  through  eternal  nights, 
How  have  ye  wrought  within  life's  scanty  days 
Of  toil,  with  mortal  hands,  immortal  praise ! 

O  fool !     Here  is  no  marvel ;  straight  and  true 
The  slender  threads  the  web  of  exquisite 

Design  run  through,  or  ravelling,  all  undo. 
And  from  time's  little  span,  in  rhythmic  flight, 
The  hours  rejoin  the  pulsings  infinite, 

With  wail  discordant,  or  in  melody 

Sweet  voiced,  as  birds  that  seek  the  upper  sky. 


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